Given my heritage and the ordeal of my childhood, I sometimes wonder why I myself am not insane. Maybe I am.

That was interesting, riding in the trunk," Milo said, "but I wouldn't want to do it again.

At the core of every ordered system, whether a family or a factory, is chaos. But in the whirl of every chaos lies a strange order, waiting to be found.

They said there was no rest for the wicked. In fact, there was rest neither for the virtuous nor the wicked, nor for guys like Billy, who were uncommitted regarding the whole idea of virtue versus wickedness and who were just trying to do their jobs.

Where there is cake, there is hope. And there is always cake.

Guilt is a tireless horse. Grief ages into sorrow, and sorrow is an enduring rider.

In a clutch or a corner, I tend to make a weapon out of what is near at hand. That can be anything from a crowbar to a cat, though if I had a choice, I would prefer an angry cat, which I have found to be more effective than a crowbar. Although weaponless, I left the house by the back door, with two chocolate-pumpkin cookies. It's a tough world out there, and a man has to armor himself against it however he can. ~Odd Thomas